Thinking a lot about photos lately and how they colour our perception of reality. I remember the first camera I got, I was 11 and it was for Christmas from my mom and dad’s friends, Ryan and Wendy. My sister and I each got small 110 kodacks. It was great, we got flashes to attach to the top and burn out and if you have ever seen me be excited you know there were a whole lot of blurry and fuzzy shots. I still have stacks of unfiled pictures and film, but my next camera came when I was 17, a 35mm cheapie, which being me, I used to death. My favourite camera came when I was 23 or 24 a Leica, it is so beautiful, it is still my favourite, it takes perfect shots, and is so comfortable, it always lives in it’s bag and yes, I have about 3 rolls of undevolped film and stacks of pictures lying around. I also have a Fujika with a macro lense – which I do not use much, a Holga, and my lovely digital camera which lives with me and my phone camera. In other words a lot of documentation could go on. I do not like video very much – fun for 15 secs, but still life, snap shots and textures all fill me up with happiness.
But, then I wonder, am I documenting real life or my interpretation of real life? Do I really remember events or just the snap shots I took? Do they keep the mood or am I projecting for an invisible audience?
I take a lot of self portrait stuff, for reasons that elude me. Not vanity – though I like to think it is, more to document I was there and alive and thinking, or being. I have gotten over the terror of having my photo taken – yep some are bad, but so what?
So, today I took off work, left work early yesterday, ‘sick as a dog?’ This morning I woke up and could not even walk, so weak and dizzy and so I called in. 2 hours later they call me to ask if I can come in…I explain I cannot even walk, and Sean says “just for 2 hours”. The answer is no, and I get guilt tripped about how he has to pick his kids up…not my fault he bred….aaargh!